Only Live Once
by Zero.Elektronik
Summary: They say you only live once, but that's not always true is it, Kyle? Slash 'tophlovski. Character death.


**AN: Guys, if there's any pairings or something you'd like to see, let me know. I'm always looking for new things to write!**

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I'm lying on the floor, and fuck, it's pretty damn cold. My breathing is heavy and broken; the occasional cough and the long breath as I exhale smoke. I'm in a pool of my own blood, and I can feel the warm, stickiness on my stomach, my back, my dirty hands. You're unaware. I'm dying.

We went over this job several times, except I know neither of us were really listening. You were too buy headphones brushing your ginger curls, making them flick out in various places as you played your video games, whilst I sat watching pretty girls out the window, cigarette between my lips and knowing this job was far too simple to concentrate on. Things never do go my way, though, do they? Maybe they already knew about us. Maybe they knew I'd be here. Maybe it was just bad timing. Maybe, well, maybe we should have listened.

There are no cameras today. No way for you to see what's happening out here. I know you're standing there, headset on as you look at the blueprints that Gregory laid out on the table, alongside some helpful notes - because Gregory always knows best. You heard a loud noise, it sounded like static on the headphones, I bet. I could hear the panic in your voice, and I know you tried to disguise it by talking slow, talking quiet,

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Oui."

"Don't lie to me! What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm okay."

But I'm not okay. Not this time. I told you I caught my leg on some broken fence, I cut it and I can deal with it - I'm fine. I'm fine. You had your doubts, but somehow still trust me, and go back to telling me what I need to do. I go along with it - remaining silent as always. You think I'm inside a vault now, cracking open locks when in reality, i'm pressing hard on my bullet wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. What a pathetic way to die. We both know i'm extremely lucky, and even if I did die, Satan would get pissed off with me and send me back up. That doesn't change the fact that this is fucking painful. That you're unaware. It's not like i'm going to tell you though - Ignorance is bliss, right?

Then somehow, it becomes quiet. Too quiet. You're quiet. I'm quiet. Even the security have given up looking for me, and there footsteps are quiet. I dragged myself too far for them to find me, making sure I didn't leave a trail of blood to follow. I can hear your slow breaths over the headset, and I know I should say something so you don't worry. I can't find any words, and I can't think. It's far too quiet. For a few moments, the only sound is the rapid beating of my heart as it struggles to keep it's rhythm. Boom. Boom. Boom. I stub my cigarette out on the concrete, and try to light another; though, it's awfully awkward when your fingers are so numb. Nevertheless, soon I'm filling up my lungs with nicotine and tar again breathe in, I breathe out. Relax. I'm okay.

It's nothing unexpected, though. I've done this all before.. You wouldn't expect it, but this is when I feel most alive; I hear everything. I hear the wind rustle against leaves, the worms crawling under me in the grass and dirt, the cold sweat on my body and the warmth of the blood soaking through my shirt onto my dirty, dry hands. I feel each breath better than ever before - as if my lungs are suddenly smoke free. I see everything sharper, and the sky is clear. The truth is, I'm scared. Not that you'll ever know that. It's not the dying part, that's fine. It's the fact maybe this time - I won't come back; maybe I'll be twenty forever, left alone and rotting on foreign ground, swallowed up in mud and grass whilst you're left becoming everything you dream of being - though we both know if things go badly, you'll be left with a hole in your life. I choke on my own blood, and take a drag of my cigarette which is quickly burning out in the wind; I fiddle with the headset. My lips are numb now, too, and It takes me a while to speak,

"Kyle?" Then, everything fades to black. I never got to hear your reply. I'm sure it wouldn't have been too interesting though, No offence, jewboy. I wouldn't want your voice to be the last thing I heard, you know? The last thing I heard happened to be the rain. Fucking wonderful. It felt nice, though, well - what I could feel of it. Even that didn't last long. At some point, I stopped breathing.

You know me though, I'm far too proud. I'd rather suffer in silence than call for help. "Your stubbornness will be the death of you, y'know," you said once. Funny how that worked out, eh? It's often said that you only live once. Maybe I'm just lucky.

The next time, It's not me. It's midnight, and the sky is dark, but it's a clear night in France. I guess it was my fault for hanging around some seedy part of Paris, where the drug dealers and hookers reside. It just so happened we showed up at the wrong time, caught in the crossfire of gangs, our outing didn't really go to plan. In a way, I guess I'm sorry. Hell, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later - I just didn't expect it to be you this time.

This time, you're the one in my arms. The blood is all over your hands, my hands, in a matter of seconds. You're shaking and clinging to my shirt, your grip is tight and you're breathing heavy. Every word you say is broke and rushed, I can see the tears forming in your eyes - and it's not a pretty sight. This wasn't meant to happen. It's my fault. You get cold quick, and as you slowly pass away in the heat of the night, you smile painfully as you try to mock me,

"Darkness settles in…" I kiss you softly. This isn't the time, I say. They say you only live once. Well, we know better than that, don't we?


End file.
